Chapter 1
Lady Cordelia Daventry knew she should not be standing outside of the library door. She most certainly should not be pressing her ear to the mahogany panel. Ladies did not eavesdrop. Still, she could not help herself. The lure of raised voices had drawn her like a moth to a flame, and now that she was here, she could not pull away.
Besides, if she were not here, she’d be in the music room listening to the debutants demonstrating their aptitude with songs and instruments. Talents that she had never possessed. Not that Cordelia begrudged them, but all the same, she’d grown weary of having her shortcomings shoved in her face.
Cordelia cringed as Mother’s voice rang through her head. ‘This is why you remain unwed,’ Mother would say. ‘If only you could sing like Lady Gretchen,’ or ‘If you possessed Miss Hillary’s skill with the pianoforte, you’d be married.’ With each demonstration, Mother would add to the commentary on why Cordelia remained alone after four seasons.
It was enough to send anyone running, and so Cordelia had made her excuse and fled from the performances. She’d only intended to stroll the hall long enough to collect herself, then return to her mother’s side. Then as she walked past the library, the argument coming from inside froze her in her tracks.
Even though she knew the voices coming from within made her transgression all the worse, she could not refrain. Her neighbor and host, The Earl of Holloway, was giving his rogue of a son, Lord Wolverton, quiet the set down. Cordelia could scarcely imagine what had caused his displeasure and found herself compelled to find out.
“It is time to grow up,” the earl seethed, and Cordelia could only imagine his face burning red with the anger she heard in his voice.
She pressed her ear closer against the door and strained to hear Lord Wolverton’s response.
“It is not all that serious, Father. So what, I attended a lurid party. It is nothing new, and nothing other peers of my age refrain from either. I might add that I recognized many of our peers there. Both older and younger.”
The transgression did not surprise Cordelia. Lord Wolverton was well known for engaging in lascivious behaviors. One was hard pressed to read a gossip rag without coming across Wolverton’s name and he was often the topic of gossip in drawing rooms. A thump sounded from within, and Cordelia imagined the earl had pounded his fist against a table.
“Our peers are not my concern! You are a disappointment. A stain on the family name, and worthless to your country,” Lord Holloway bellowed, his yelling followed by another loud thump.
Cordelia cringed at the harsh set down the earl delivered to his son. She well knew how a parent’s disapproval stung one’s soul. Viscount Wolverton may be a rogue, a scoundrel with a blackened reputation, but he was still the earl’s son and heir. Perhaps if the earl treated his son with an ounce of kindness, Wolverton would behave better.
“It ends now!” The earl continued this tirade. “Should I hear of any more shenanigans involving you, you’ll be cut off… disowned, and cast out. You are lucky I cannot take the title and entailed lands from you, but mark my words, you worthless excuse for a son, I’ll see that you receive nothing else!”
“Father,” Lord Wolverton’s plea pierced Cordelia’s heart. She could only imagine how his father’s words must sting.
“Silence. I do not wish to hear anything you have to say on the topic.”
The sound of heavy footfalls reverberated, growing louder with each step. Cordelia’s heart raced as she pulled herself away from the door. Panic gripped her as she realized someone would soon step into the hall. If discovered she’d most certainly be turned over to Mother for a scolding of her own.
That could not happen.
Cordelia launched herself through the first door she saw, then pressed her back flat against the wall as the library door swung open. Lord Holloway’s voice muttered curses as he stomped away. She held her breath until his footfalls faded.
Compassion got the best of her as she pushed away from the wall, and once again did something she knew she ought not to. Cordelia swallowed hard as she turned toward the library.
She and Lord Wolverton were not friends, but they had been neighbors all her life. Cordelia knew him well enough—too well to ignore him when he was surely hurting. She had to go to him and offer her support, if for no other reason than she knew how it felt to hear such painful words from one’s parent.
Mother’s and Father’s are supposed to love you above all else. They are the people you love, regardless of how they hurt you. She pulled in a steading breath. Her heart breaking for Lord Wolverton, for she knew all too well how it felt when one’s parents berated them.
The words, no matter how well-meaning, cut straight through one’s soul. Yes, she had to go to him. Cordelia had to offer her support. Her friendship.
She stepped into the library, closing the door behind her. Her gaze met Lord Wolverton’s, and the hurt in his blue eyes caused her throat to tighten. She swallowed hard as he trailed his gaze over her. Finding her voice, she said, “I thought you might need a friend.”
His gaze narrowed. “And so you’ve offered yourself as the sacrificial lamb?”
“No.” she shook her head. “I offer myself as a friend, a confidant.”
He chuckled, a low, deep reverberation void of any genuine humor. “You should go.”
Cordelia steadied herself, then began walking toward him. Her steps slow, measured. “I would rather stay.” She knew her reputation was in peril, but what use did a spinster have for a reputation?
It was not as if she had marriage prospects storming her door. Not a single gentleman had dared to court her since her second season. But here, in this room, there was a flesh and blood person—a man—who needed her.
With a boldness she did not know she possessed, Cordelia laid her hand to his chest. “I am here for you. Use me. Talk to me. Vent. Allow me to hug you close. Cry on my shoulder if you need to.”
He backed her up against the wall, then caged her in with his arms. Bracing his hands against the wall on either side of her shoulders, he leaned in. “You do not know what you are offering,” he said, his voice holding an unfamiliar edge.
